


To Be Your Harbour

by deathwailart



Series: Sail Your Sea [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Banter, Bisexual Female Character, Cunnilingus, Duelling, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Misunderstandings, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne and Mary from those first lessons to them getting even closer; friendship and lessons on using a cutlass and pistol, misunderstandings and duels and coming together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Your Harbour

There's a giddy feeling in Anne's belly as she tests the weight of the cutlass in one hand and a pistol in the other, glancing over to where James is slouching, arms folded, waiting for Anne to get herself sorted. She knows well enough how not to hurt herself with the weapons from Rackham and watching other lads but it's different when she's the one holding them after all. Today isn't a day for the pistol but as silly as it might be, she likes to feel the weight of it sometimes, knowing that it's _hers_ , to use as she'd like. It's still strange to have the sort of freedom she's got here where she can come and go as she pleases and where Jack might still get jealous about her making eyes at someone or having someone make eyes at her but he's not about to have her sentenced to be whipped for it. She sets the pistol down carefully because she's had a whole lecture about keeping her finger away from the trigger unless she means to shoot someone  
  
"You ever handled a blade before?"  
  
The words rouse Anne from her daze and she looks over at James properly, noticing that he's at least sitting up straight, no longer slumped on the empty barrel. "Depends what sort of blade you're talking about, doesn't it?" She retorts, unable to help herself because she likes being around James, he makes her laugh, he doesn't give her any shite a lot of the regulars do and he's offering something no one else has; the chance to learn how to fight for herself is nothing to be sniffed at. Him being handsome in a different sort of way to what she's used to doesn't hurt at all either. James chokes, almost falling off the barrel and she laughs. "You were trying to talk me into going off to sea, don't mistake me for some blushing maid. Besides, you brought up lasses spinning capstans and how I'd have to work for it."  
  
"Steering this back to blades-"  
  
She interrupts, fishing out a small blade she keeps on her person because she's not an idiot after all and she's fought before. "Aye, I've got this."  
  
"S'not going to do much except in a pinch though, different to using a true sword."  
  
"Isn't that what all the lads say Jim? That the size doesn't matter, it's all about how you use it."  
  
"Damn girl!" If she ever said the same to Jack he'd go off in a sulk or he'd say something about proving it or some other silly nonsense but James just laughs and shakes his head. "Is that why you say they call you a jilt? Unmanning them quick as that?"  
  
Anne shrugs lightly, smirk on her face as James gets to his feet, just enough swagger to speak of self-confidence, planting his hands on his hips as he circles around her. "If that's all it takes..."  
  
"Glad I've got nothing to be concerned about then," James retorts and it's Anne's turn to laugh, giving him a shove when he's close enough.  
  
"Maybe Jack was right to worry."  
  
James says nothing but before Anne can wonder at it – nothing wrong with being vain but she's not really beyond knowing that she's a pretty lass, one that draws the eye and well, she's not going to hide her light (or lights as the case may be) under a bushel, fond of banter and a joke and more than half the men she's ever met have always seemed to take a friendly gesture as some sort of promise or indication of more but she wouldn't mind at all if James were interested and for a moment she's not sure if she's disappointed or annoyed that he doesn't reply – he's starting the lesson. He adjusts her grip and her stance, tests her reach, has her lunging forward and swinging it safely so she can get used to the weight of it.  
  
"It needs to feel like it's a part of you," he explains as she stops to take a breath, switching the blade from one hand to the other to wipe away the sweat that's weakening her grip. "A man's going to underestimate you because you're a woman, use that to your advantage and make him pay for it." There's a little edge to his words and it makes Anne want to ask if he's had experience of that because god knows she's had to deal with more than her fair share of idiot notions but there's something that gives her pause before she decides to leave it for now. She wants these lessons to continue and she doesn't know James that well yet, perhaps not well enough to ask something like that when he's teaching her to fight. "You won't have the same reach as a man and you're strong, don't think I'm saying otherwise but more of your strength is going to come from your hips. Obviously if you stay sober you're going to have a big advantage too but knowing your weaknesses is just as important as knowing your strengths."  
  
"Makes sense," she agrees, grinning and James smiles right back at her.  
  
"Right, there's no time like the present so come at me, don't worry, you'll not hurt me and if you do then it'll be my fault."  
  
She feels clumsy and awkward when she starts moving, thrusting forward only for James to easily lean back and away from it, glad that there's no one down here on this quiet part of the beach to watch and laugh at her beyond the few turtles dragged themselves up onto the sand. She misses James every time, unable to keep up with him when he dances close – there's no other word for it – and taps her with the flat of his blade each time. Her back, her thigh, her belly, even her throat and she gets it and keeps her guard up at his urging, tries to move her feet without looking as she keeps an eye on where he is but she's still not ready for the first time his blade strikes hers, the shock of it jangling up her arm until she swears she can feel it in her teeth. She almost drops the cutlass but in holding onto it she loses her footing, falling backward with a shout to suddenly find James looming over her, a knee either side of her hips and his blade to her throat. It's the flat of it but it's still a sword against her delicate skin, freezing cold because it's the height of the day and she's dripping with sweat, her hair and clothes plastered to her skin. She gasps, tries to swallow and stares up at James who looks like a different person, someone much more dangerous than even a pirate before he smiles, like the clouds parting before the sun. They stare at one another even after James pulls the blade away and Anne can't help herself, touching her throat, feeling her pulse wild and frantic beneath her fingertips, aware of how close James is, his knees tight against her hips. He seems to realise that and swings a leg over until he stands, bending at the waist as he sheathes his weapon.  
  
"It's a start," he says at last, just as breathless as Anne.  
  
"C'mon, I owe you a drink," Anne says as James hauls her up and to her feet, sheathing the cutlass that already feels _right_ nestled at her hip as she wipes sand from her arse.  
  
"Rackham's probably beside himself thinking I've made off with you thrown over my shoulder," James agrees and Anne laughs even if she finds that idea more agreeable than James might realise.

* * *

  
  
Jack laughs when Anne plonks herself on his lap after the lesson, stealing his bottle of rum from him and giving him a kiss when he complains, a friendly warning to James about remembering not to run off with his lass. She settles herself comfortably, letting all the talk wash over her, quieter than usual but she's tired and sore from the lesson and she can't help but think about it again and again, how it felt to have that blade to her throat. Or maybe it's more to do with it being James. He's handsome, lanky and lean compared to the rest, more covered up than most of them too but there's that swing in his step that she admires and maybe it's what she wants to have herself. She knows who she is and she's quick to disabuse anyone of the notion that she's anything other than her own woman, young though she may be but still, there's something about him that she wants for herself.  
  
He smiles at her and promises more lessons because he can tell she's serious about it as she bids him goodnight, dragging Jack off with her and to bed before he gets too drunk to be any fun. She pushes him to lie flat for a change and Jack's all smiles the way he is when he's got her undivided attention, helping her undress and cupping her hips as she settles above him, knees by his hips.  
  
Doesn't hurt either of them if she's still thinking about her lesson from earlier, she still loves Jack and tells him that when he holds her as she shakes, head against his shoulder and he replies in kind, stroking his fingers through her hair as she drifts off. But the lesson still haunts her through her dream but it's not Jack with a blade to his throat, it's James and his sure smile, hands above his head in surrender.  
  
"What'll you do to me?" James whispers in the dream, voice huskier than she's actually heard it in waking moments.  
  
"Whatever I like," she murmurs back and James just laughs and repeats that he yields.

* * *

  
  
She continues the lessons. They've got the time and Anne's a quick learner but to give her a break from the cutlass, they switch around to the pistol because that'll be just as vital if she goes out to sea the way James keeps hinting she should, saying that she'd be more of a captain than Jack who either agrees if he's very drunk and in a good mood, or protests if he feels slighted because he knows Anne will kiss it better even as she teases him.  
  
"How's it feel?" James asks, reaching around to correct her grip, Anne turning to face him and he's so close all of a sudden, closer than he's been even when they've been laughing and drinking with Jack. She could kiss him if she wanted to, wouldn't even have to move more than an inch, a tilt of her head and she could be kissing him. She's not daft enough to think that Jack isn't off with other lasses and well, the less said about her first marriage the better in her opinion, she's allowed to have wants and needs all her own. James has a face like a knife, all sharp edges and angles but not even a hint of stubble; James is older than her, no doubt about it but still, he's got a face of a lad if it weren't for the eyes that know too much, the scar cutting down through an eyebrow to his cheek, thin lips she'd like to nip. _Lad is the last thing you should be calling me_ , she remembers suddenly, when Rackham was getting jealous because she loves him, even if he's rough and that's saying something given the pirates Anne knows, but he's a daft sot at the best of times and he doesn't always remember that the heart is big enough to love more than one person at once. "Anne?"  
  
She stifles the curse, hoping her cheeks aren't as pink as they feel now she's been caught daydreaming. "Aye, feels good, heavy like, but like it fits."  
  
"S'what I like to hear." James laughs and Anne feels it vibrate through her as a hand adjusts her elbow just slightly. "You'll be a proper pirate by the time I'm done with you."  
  
"Don't think pirate and proper go together, not when you're a lass."  
  
James stills and when Anne sneaks a glance he's pink too, high on his cheeks and spreading down his neck before he's clearing his throat.  
  
"Right, take a deep breath, squeeze the trigger, it'll have a kick on it." Anne does as instructed, repeating the advice to herself as James sets both hands on her waist. "Don't worry, I'll catch you if you fall back. Just line it up with one of them bottles there and go when you're ready. Remember, sight down the barrel."  
  
It's distracting, James being that close, but she's determined to do this right seeing as it's still taking time to get as good with a cutlass as she'd like but the first shot misses and she jumps, clattering back into James who steadies her, his grip sure. "Blast," she mutters, annoyed at herself even as James offers another trigger.  
  
"Your arm was too stiff, c'mon," she lets James tug her as he talks, lips practically at her ear as her arm is adjusted. "See? That'll be better. But keep the elbow loose, arm up, c'mon."  
  
"How far off was I?" She asks, squinting to get a look at the barrel they're using to set the bottle on and she thinks she can see a score on it so at least she was aiming in the right direction, if that mark was left by her and she's not mistaken.  
  
"Not far. You can do this Anne." James grins and she smiles back before she turns, setting her feet, James still so close she can feel the heat of him even through her coat and she leans back as much as she can, letting him adjust her arm, settle his hands on her waist again. "Fire."  
  
The bottle explodes, glass flying everywhere and she grins, almost dropping the pistol as she turns to grab at James who flinches just for a moment before swinging Anne up in his arms, both of them laughing as she crows her success in his ear, pushing that silly beaded braid out of her way. She plants a kiss on his cheek when he sets her down, or means to but she misjudges how close they are and her lips are at the corner of his mouth and James' eyes go wide.  
  
Anne laughs because the look on his face is priceless, and they must look like fools, Anne's arms around his neck and her legs slung over his hips, James holding her up with his hands under her thighs. From the look on his face she's half expecting to feel _something_ but he's frozen in place and she snorts and rests her forehead against his so he ends up falling back with a clatter, unable to keep from cursing.  
  
"That's payback," she says when he says nothing and lies there looking shocked, mouth opening and closing with nothing coming out.  
  
" _What_?" He croaks finally as she rolls over to lie on her back next to him, sighing as she manages to breathe properly again.  
  
"All the times you get me flat on my back or on my arse." She punctuates her words by giving James a good shove but he's still just lying there stiff as a board and it's a bit odd, honestly it's downright weird because right, maybe anyone James has taught to shoot hasn't done that but he knows her. She's always one for resting a hand on his shoulder or giving him a shove, leaning in close when they're together and he's had his hands on her plenty since all these lessons began. "Jack'd be jealous, he has to work at least twice as hard."  
  
It's the wrong thing to say because James is sitting up, shaking sand out of his hair as he loosens the bandana and his hair is longer than Anne realised, long and it looks far softer than she thought it might. "We should head back, that's enough for now, don't want to draw a crowd."  
  
"Maybe I'd like one," Anne retorts, regretting it a little because she sounds like a brat. James says nothing, leaning forward, folded arms on his knees as he stares out over the horizon so Anne sits up, sighing when she shakes her head and spies plenty of crushed petals falling with the sand. Glancing over at James she reaches out to where his shirt has fallen open revealing a tattoo she hasn't ever seen too much of before. "Here, you've got-"  
  
James flinches when her fingers brush the open V of his shirt where the petal sits, looking from Anne's fingers to her face before leaping to his feet as though he's been scalded, racing to grab his pistol, fumbling to tuck it in his belt.  
  
"James?" Anne tries, biting her lip because of all the reactions she was prepared for, whatever's going on right now isn't one of them. "Oi, Jim, what's the matter? I'm sorry, I was only larking around, didn't mean to upset or offend-"  
  
"It's nothing, it's—" James finally manages to tuck the pistol away but he can't look at Anne, instead fixing his gaze at some point in the distance over her shoulder and it shouldn't bother her this much but she doesn't understand what the hell is going on here.  
  
"Jack's all talk, you know that as well as I do James."  
  
James bites his lip and shakes his head. "It's not that, it's...never mind, I've got somewhere I need to be. Show Rackham the pistol, he'll teach you how to clean it and reload it, he's smart enough to at least keep his weapons in good order."  
  
With that, James is gone, not quite running but it's clear he wants to, Anne tempted to call after him. Instead she watches him until he's a speck in the distance, cursing under her breath as she grabs her pistol and heads off back to work where dealing with loud drunks will give her something to think about that isn't James and his reaction.

* * *

  
  
James makes himself scarce after that. Oh he's around here and there and they talk but everyone notices that Anne and him aren't attached at the hip and it gets them more than one odd look, with Thatch acting like he's her mad old uncle (or even worse, like he's her da or something like that) when he asks if he needs to sort James out. She reminds him that she's capable of doing that all by herself thank you very much and of course Thatch just roars with laughter before he pats her on the back, reminding her that just because she can, it doesn't mean that she has to because they look out for their own. She gives him a drink on the house for that and they don't say more on the subject but it warms her heart because they're mad, the whole bleeding lot of them but they're hers, her odd little family and it's wonderful, it really and truly is. Still, James being an arse and changing the subject whenever Anne tries to bring it up with him is something of a dampener on everything.  
  
Jack notices too and tries to bring it up in his own fumbling sort of way, something that maybe only Anne would ever find endearing about him.  
  
"Wasn't really going to cut him, I like Jim."  
  
"Aye, I know Jack."  
  
"Well I might've, just a little, a duel between gentlemen." And then Jack's laughing so hard he damn near rolls off the bed, Anne grabbing him just in time.  
  
"I know you're younger than us, Jim's older but he felt more your age, you were happy off having lessons with him."  
  
She sighs and turns on her side, her back to him because she doesn't know what to say. It's easier when it's the day and it's bright or when she's working but when it's late and she's tired it's like there's a rope running through her with an ugly great knot that gets pulled from her stomach to her throat and back down again. "Aye," she mumbles at last, just about getting the word out.  
  
"Anne, bollocks, never meant to upset you," Jack says quickly, lips to her shoulder in apology and she smiles, twisting just enough to let him see.  
  
"It's not you, it's him, s'pose he thinks he's got more important things to do – I know that look on your face Jack Rackham, you leave it alone or you'll answer for it."  
  
"You know best," he concedes, stretching out behind her with an arm draped over her waist.  
  
"And don't you forget it."

* * *

  
  
It's over a week before she gets to see James again, more her ambushing him really, something she's proud of because James is one of those people that's so much more aware of his surroundings than most folk and he's been avoiding being alone with her. She's sure Jack said something, his attempt at an apology or reminding him that he was just joking and posturing more than anything else but James has been so careful that she could hit him when she finally finds him alone where they spent so long practicing. She knows how to draw the cutlass almost silently but she gets the feeling that James knew she was there because of the way he tenses just before she taps her blade against his neck.  
  
"Serious thing to do to a man, sneaking up on him and drawing a blade." He doesn't turn to look at her and it has her seething, thinking _how dare he_ because he was the one that started it and she has no idea what the hell happened.  
  
"You said I had to want it and to work for it." It's all she can say because it's the truth after all.  
  
James laughs but it's a hollow thing. "Aye, I did at that. So, how's it to be then? Reckon you could take me?"  
  
"Get on your feet and we'll do it good and proper." She doesn't move her blade though, keeping it trained on James as he rises and turns, remembering that first time he knocked her down and held the flat of it to her throat, wondering if James has been in that position, how many times he's had a blade pressed against his throat or had to make the decision to spare a life or end it.  
  
"How do we decide the victor? First blood? Until one of us yields?"  
  
"Do you think you've got a chance of beating me?" Anger makes her bold, maybe makes her reckless but she's not about to let him win in case it means he's gone for good, declaring her to not have the heart or the stomach or the spine for it, whatever stupid excuse that might be given even though she wasn't the one who gave up, who even roped in Jack or some of the other lads into practicing with her in the time since James stopped the lessons. "You'll know when you're beaten."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Maybe if you'd explained what happened after the pistol lesson then it wouldn't have come to this but I do promise not to unman you, I'm not that cruel."  
  
James looks fit to argue and this could all go so spectacularly wrong, the little bits and pieces she's filed away, that remark he made to Jack but he nods, draws his cutlass and backs away. "On three?"  
  
They count down together before Anne lunges forward, no longer surprised by how it feels when their blades make contact and she knows enough by now to know when James isn't really pressing an attack but testing her instead, seeing if or when she'll fall for any feint, to see if she can read his body language better now. Even as she tries to remember that she's still angry, she's having fun in a way she didn't when she practiced with anyone else. There's a thrill she gets when she's fighting with James because he knows what he's doing but he's graceful, almost elegant and it's like dancing, she feels like she's soaring and she's smiling, she can't help it and James is smiling too. He stops when there's a rip of fabric, the neck of his shirt torn and Anne grins when he stops, blade still up as she watches his gaze go from it to Anne. He holds up a hand and she half-expects him to flee but he undoes his belt and removes it and his coat instead.  
  
"What can I say, I'm fond of it, wouldn't want it to come to harm."  
  
Anne can't find much fault with that but she doesn't give him time to recover because he's a pirate and she's a lass, neither of them are gentlemen so she presses her attack, this time aiming for the shoulder of the shirt to cut it away, ducking when James comes at her, just about keeping her footing when she's forced to duck and turn at the same time because she doesn't _quite_ have the hang of it yet. She takes the chance when she can, cutting again and-  
  
"Jesus!" The front of the shirt hangs open and aye, it's a bare chest she sees but it's not a man's chest. "You really aren't a lad."  
  
"You win," James says, not looking as embarrassed as Anne imagines she would in such a situation if she were undressed in the middle of a duel. "So..."  
  
"Am I meant to call you Jim still?"  
  
There's a laugh and a headshake. "No, to my mum and my friends, it's Mary. Mary Read. Come on, this isn't the sort of chat I fancy having with my tits out where anyone might happen along. If you want to talk about it, I've got a room." She scoops up her coat as she speaks, tying the belt nice and snug around it so no one can see her shirt is gaping open, sheathing her cutlass as she heads off. "Anne?" She looks unsure and that's when Anne realises that she's still just standing there, cutlass out and staring.  
  
"Right behind you."

* * *

  
  
"Here," Mary gives her a nudge as they sit side by side on the bed in her small room, pressing a glass of rum into her hand. "Reckon I've got some explaining to do."  
  
"Not if you don't want to. And I'm sorry about your shirt." Anne takes a sip of her drink to steady herself but her apology is waved away with that husky laugh and she did always think there was something a little off about that voice and now she's sitting here looking, she wonders why she ever tried to fool herself about Mary in the first place.  Probably because everyone else seemed to believe it and well, by the time she was ready to voice a suspicion, it was just her and James was nowhere to be seen where they could have a moment alone.  
  
"You're a friend, sometimes you've felt like more than that. Like a kindred spirit." The way she says it makes Anne feel warm inside but she still has to roll her eyes at her. "I know, I know, you're probably thinking what a load of old tosh-"  
  
"Worse, I'm Irish, remember?"  
  
"D'you have any questions first?"  
  
"Probably the why would be a good place to start."  
  
"It would," Mary pauses, downing half her drink and drumming her fingers on the glass. "When I was a girl, my mum used to dress me up like a boy so she'd pass me off as some other man's son, not that often but a few times. I grew up though, joined the navy, even got married."  
  
"Was it happy?" Anne remembers the sour days of her marriage, the way it ended and she wouldn't want that for anyone, especially not someone she's come to care about.  
  
"While it lasted, not long enough to see what sort of wife I'd've been; he was a soldier, got killed not long after the wedding. Ended up becoming a pirate, said I was William Kidd's son and well, here I am."  
  
"Just like that?"  
  
"Just like that," Mary confirms, leaning back comfortably with a satisfied smile. "Did you figure it out though? Sometimes the way you looked at me it was like you saw right through."  
  
"I think I started to suspect from when we were chatting that first time, remember when Jack was telling you off?" Mary nods and laughs, muttering something like 'what an arse' under her breath and Anne has to agree with her. "That face of yours is far too smooth for a man's face," she reaches out, brushes he fingers along Mary's jaw as if to check, nodding at what she finds. "Aye, too smooth by half. And well, there was a certain something lacking when we you were teaching me to shoot. Especially given all your talk."  
  
Mary flushes, downing the last of her drink then grabbing the bottle and swigging straight from it.  
  
"That it?"  
  
"You flinched something awful when I went to collect one of my petals too. But then you ran off so fast I never got a chance to say something and I didn't think you'd like me bringing it up in front of everyone we know when they're all drinking."  
  
"I appreciate it, you have no idea how much."  
  
"So, is it easier then?"  
  
"Is what easier Annie?"  
  
There aren't words for how good it feels to hear Mary call her that again. "Just...going around as a lad. Not having to work twice as hard for half the respect or being called a jilt because you like the banter but you're not just going to let them get their leg over because you owe them or whatever stupid reason they come up with."  
  
"Remember what I said about you? How you can use it to your advantage?"  
  
"I know but sometimes..." She trails off, finishing her drink.  
  
"You just want to unman them on principle," Mary finishes and doesn't try to stop Anne taking the bottle from her for a long swig.  
  
"Is that part of why you worked so hard to convince me?"  
  
"You seemed the kind of lass that wanted a challenge, liked the excitement and the danger but I wasn't lying when I said I've met many a woman who knows how to sail, just as fierce if not fiercer than a man in a fight or when she's outrunning whatever enemy comes her way. I was used to it, knew to throw the name around but, y'know what, watch." Anne's not sure what to expect when Mary gets up and loosens her belt so the coat hangs open, not showing much but there's an expanse of warm skin below the tattoo, paler than the rest but she looks up, watching as Mary unties her bandana and gives her hair a shake, hanging almost to her shoulders. "Usually I'll put a bit of colour on my lips too, you know what men are like, stagger up to them and cry for help and well, they're eating out the palm of your hand."  
  
Anne can't help that she laughs and it seems the most natural thing in the world to shift on the bed so she and Mary can sit side by side, their backs against the headboard. "I think I'd like to see that some day."  
  
"Maybe you will." She steals the bottle back, the beads in her braids clinking softly. "Look, anything a man can do, a woman can do better, maybe because we're always having to work twice as hard to be called half as good at anything but there you go."  
  
"Could you picture me out there? On the deck of a ship?"  
  
"Like something out of a story, like the sea come to life, cutlass in one hand, pistol in the other."  
  
"Both of us?"  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
She thinks that she'd like to kiss Mary even more than she wanted to kiss James that day, twine her fingers in Mary's hair and see just how red she can make her lips. She knows she wants Mary on top and her on top and it's really just the order of proceedings that she's fussing with in her mind and that she wants to finish what she started in that duel, seeing what scars Mary has to match the one on her face or if she's got more tattoos tucked away beneath her coat.  
  
"Annie?" Mary prompts, giving her a little nudge, setting the bottle down on the floor by the bed.  
  
"I think," Anne begins, wetting her bottom lip and she's never been shy about this in all her life before, "I'd like to kiss you." She doesn't miss the intake of breath from Mary at the words or how she swallows carefully.  
  
"What about Jack?"  
  
"I explained it to Jack once, that loving someone else doesn't mean there's less love to go around, to me it always meant the opposite, that there was even more. I don't mind if Jack chases after another girl and I doubt he'd mind if I did the same, if that's alright with you."  
  
Mary's answer is to cup Anne's face in her hands, resting their foreheads together as she inhales raggedly. It's Anne who closes the gap, tilts her chin up to kiss her, almost shy at first as her fingers clutch at the front of Mary's coat. When Mary moans quietly she's the one to deepen it, moving so she's straddling Mary's lap, Mary's hands travelling down from her face to her neck, over her shoulders and down until they're wrapped around her hips. She's breathless when she breaks the kiss, sure she must be flushed all the way down her chest but Mary tastes of rum and freedom and the promise of so much more and she can't get enough of it, twining her fingers in hair that must be soft and fluffy when it's been washed and there's a thought isn't there? But she wants to do this right so they settle for kissing, Mary eventually rolling them over so Anne's beneath her, a leg between her thighs. Eventually they stagger off to the tavern and Mary is James again and they're both laughing and attached at the hip and the world seems right and perfect.

* * *

  
  
It's Mary who opens the door when Anne knocks, Nassau dark but never quiet, awake as ever with the evening chorus of drunks not far off. She has fresh flowers in her hair that Mary brought her with a grin, clambering down from a tree of such a height it made Anne feel dizzy from her spot on the ground, joking about what people would think if they knew the feared and renowned James Kidd climbed up trees just to get flowers for a pretty lass. But tonight it's Mary and her hair is washed and her lips are red and she hauls Anne into her room, bolting the door securely behind them.  
  
"Why James, is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?" She teases and Mary gives a snorting laugh.  
  
"What am I going to do with you?"  
  
"I could think of a hundred things personally."  
  
"Haven't even shown you half of that yet."  
  
"Well, you'd best get started hadn't you?"  
  
Mary kisses her when she can't seem to find a comeback and they stagger back towards the bed, Mary falling back with Anne on top of her, laughing as they fumble with belts to get the weapons out of the way, dropping them to the floor unceremoniously with a hell of a clatter. The window across the room is open, the moon round and bright, shining silver like a reale, the waves lapping at the shore just a murmur and there's just enough of a chill in the air compared to the heat of the day to make her shiver. They're forced to sit up to undress because Anne might have shoes she can kick off and stocking she can roll down – a sight that distracts Mary enough so that it takes Anne clearing her throat to get her moving again – but Mary has tall boots that require a lot of wriggling and tugging and Anne gets annoyed enough that she gets down on her knees and tugs hard until she topples back, Mary's boots in her hand.  
  
"What is it with you making me land on my arse?" She mutters, pretending to be annoyed for the sake of it as she tosses the boots over to land by her shoes, accepting Mary's hand up.  
  
"I'll make it up to you," Mary promises, trailing a hand up Anne's bare thigh and she shivers again, nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with how that hand steals under her skirt, just brushing against where she wants it before it's gone. She has to stretch up to her tiptoes to kiss Mary like this and she likes it, likes how Mary holds her close so she won't topple over, already thinking about what it'd be like to have Mary stretched out on top of her, all bare skin and lean muscle and she gasps, breaking the kiss to rest her head on Mary's shoulder.  
  
"Too many clothes," she complains when she can speak again, just about managing to fit her hands between them to undo Mary's belt, helping her to shrug out of her coat. When she moves to unlace the front of her trousers, Mary catches her hands and stops her, a wicked grin on her face.  
  
"Equal share and all and well, you've already had a look haven't you?" Her fingers are on the laces of Anne's top, loosening them with care until it falls open, unbuttoning her shirt at the same time but when Anne gets the chance she's doing the same until both of them stand naked from the waist up. One day she'll take her time, she'll strip Mary and let Mary strip her but she's wanted this for too long now, since that day they were so close and she could've kissed her with a pistol in her hand and Mary pressed so close to her. They share a look and shimmy out of the last of their clothes and when Mary sits and extends a hand to Anne she takes it, letting her pull her down to the bed so they lie on their sides facing one another.  
  
"You're so beautiful," Mary murmurs, running a hand down Anne's side, smirking when she gasps as her fingers ghost over a ticklish spot just above her hip.  
  
"Not so bad yourself," she replies, getting a proper look now at the other tattoos she sees here and there that she'll explore another day as well as scars she wants to touch and kiss and hear stories about.  
  
"You'll be the death of me."  
  
"It'd be a good one then, the best," she vows and kisses her again, letting Mary move them both until Anne's on her back, Mary on top of her.  
  
Mary pulls away to kiss her way down Anne's throat, down between her breasts as she cups them in her hands, rubbing little circles around her nipples with her thumb as Anne gasps and arches up, one of her thighs between Mary's, the other woman pressing hard against it. She slides a hand into Mary's hair to guide her down, unable to stop herself from crying out when she feels Mary's mouth on her breast, sucking the nipple as she rolls and pinches the other, grazing it with her teeth. She laughs breathlessly, covering her face with her other hand until Mary reaches up and moves it away, giving her a chaste kiss.  
  
"You good?" She asks, one hand still moving down, around and over her hip, sliding across her thigh until it's so close Anne can feel the warmth of it.  
  
"Golden," she manages, brushing her nose against Mary's with a bright smile but Mary doesn't move even when Anne tries to squirm closer. " _Please_."  
  
"Since you asked so nicely."  
  
Her hand cups Anne who rocks up into her touch, biting her lip to stay quiet but she cries out when Mary's thumb presses against her clit, rolling her hips into the touch as Mary starts to follow the path her hand took with her mouth, urging Anne to spread her thighs wider. Both her hands are in Mary's hair as her tongue replaces the thumb and the noise she makes is loud enough that anyone passing by can probably hear her but it's even better than she thought it would be, especially when Mary slides two fingers into her cunt. She clenches around them, talking nonsense when she's not moaning Mary's name, eyes screwed shut as she rolls her hips, Mary sliding her fingers free, her mouth and tongue there instead, long slow licks and wet sucking sounds and Anne lets go of Mary's hair before she hurts her, curling her fingers in the bedclothes instead. She presses two fingers back in and Anne can feel just how wet she is, heat low in her belly and the small of her back but when her orgasm hits it still catches her by surprise and she tries to curl in on herself, almost sobbing. Mary doesn't stop until Anne squirms away, oversensitive, thighs trembling and when she manages to open her eyes and look down she sees Mary with a hand between her own thighs and she watches her come with a broken moan. Mary's shaking too when she collapses next to her again and Anne grabs for her hand, linking their fingers as she waits until she can speak again.  
  
"I wanted to-" She begins only to be cut off by Mary kissing her, tasting herself on her lips and tongue.  
  
"Gimme a minute and I'll let you do whatever you like for as long as you like."  
  
"Might take all night."  
  
"I think I can handle it."  
  
Anne smiles and lets Mary tug her close as she gets her breath back. After all, it's early yet and dawn's a long way off, more than enough time to have Mary every way she wants her and then some.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: given that this is Anne's POV, James is referred to as James and addressed with male pronouns until the reveal because that's what she believes.
> 
> Written as a combination of the following prompts:  
> "historical myth has it that when anne was being taught to use a sword she played a trick on her instructor by cutting away their clothes during a duel. Except in AC4 the person who taught her to use a sword was..." and "Anne notices that the young James Kidd is treating her with more respect than Jack is, and she makes the decision to secretly go after him. She starts getting touchy-feely, much to James' embarrassment, as he'd rather not catch the ire of Jack. Avoids her while at the same time enjoying her attentions. When her handsy-ness accidentally reveals James/Mary as a girl, Anne is surprised but shrugs it off and goes along with it anyway."


End file.
